


Tidings of Comfort and Joy

by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm)



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, M/M, MJN Air Is A Family, Martin Whump, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-22 19:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13173543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanadaHolm/pseuds/88thParallel
Summary: Douglas had been looking forward to Christmas for months. How on Earth had it all gone so wrong? And would he be able to repair the damage he'd done before it was too late?





	1. December 22nd

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kestrel337](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrel337/gifts).



> My first fanfic for the Cabin Pressure fandot!
> 
> Eternal thanks to my best fandot friend and beta my-sun-my-baelish!
> 
> Created for the Fandot Secret Santa 2017, as a gift for kestrel337 - hope you like it :)

**_December 22nd_ **

 

“Here’s your tea, Gents!” Arthur exclaimed as he jingled onto the flight deck, necklace of tiny sleigh bells accompanying his every movement with merriment. He handed Martin and Douglas their drinks and reached into his back pocket with a grin. “And I’ve got a special treat for nibbles today!” He brought out the hidden hand to reveal a small, red plaid package of Walker’s shortbread. “The vending accidentally gave me an extra! It’s a Christmas miracle! I thought you chaps might like to share this package and Mum and I can have the other.”

“I don’t know if an extra packet of biscuits really qualifies as _miraculous_ , Arthur,” Douglas said wryly. Arthur’s face fell.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Martin filled in, giving Douglas a stern look. “It’s nice of you to think of us.” 

“Yes, thank you,” Douglas agree" d, chastened. “Those are my favourites, it’s a lovely surprise.”

Arthur’s face lit up again and he placed the biscuits on the small console between Martin and Douglas.

“I just love Christmas time,” he glowed. “All the jolly songs and the festive puddings and the sparkly lights … being with family and piles of gifts under the tree. This year Herc is taking us to visit his sister in Northampton, and he says it’s a really jolly time. He even thinks he’ll get Mum to go caroling with us!”

“Now that _would_ be a Christmas miracle,” Douglas muttered. He tried to imagine Carolyn singing joyous holiday songs and found he was completely unable to do so.

Martin laughed. “I think it would be better for everyone involved if Carolyn has a _silent night_.”  

Arthur shrugged. “I tried warning Herc, but he said Mum beat me to it. She told him she’ll feed all his Christmas gifts to sheep, which he’s scared of, but he’s also vegetarian, so he can’t be _mean_ to them either, and I reckon sheep being forced to eat your Christmas gifts is pretty mean. Sure glad I’m not in Herc’s shoes right now! What are you Gents doing for Christmas?”

Douglas couldn’t keep the smile from his face, but kept his voice casual. “It’s my year to have Verity for Christmas. Just her and I, doing all the typical Christmas things. Should be a good time.” 

In fact, Douglas was planning for nothing short of a _great_ time. He only had to get through tomorrow’s flight to and from Scotland, and then Verity would arrive in time for Christmas Eve.  

He’d been preparing since October; picked up the best drinking chocolate in Cozumel, some colorful ribbon candy in Eindhoven, and found her a beautiful new stocking in Paris. He’d wrapped all of her presents in gold foil paper, and they lay waiting for her under the perfect spruce tree he’d dragged home atop his car. Douglas hadn’t even minded the scratches and sap that had marred the roof. He’d bought the shiniest crackers, enough classic Christmas movies for a marathon, and a few board games he thought would be fun to play together. They’d spend the next few days in their pyjamas in front of the fire, eating too much good food and enjoying one another’s company. Maybe they’d bundle up and go see the Christmas lights display that took over Fitton Gardens. Now that she was almost a teenager, he knew he wouldn’t have many more of these Christmases left. He wanted this one to be perfect.

“That’s wonderful, Douglas! How about you, Skip? Visiting your family?” 

Martin turned away, picked up a clipboard with their printed flight details, and started flipping through the pages. “My mother’s got quite a bit planned,” he said distractedly.

“Great! Just one more trip until all the fun starts! And tomorrow - presents!”

Luckily neither Martin or Arthur were looking at Douglas to notice his sudden flash of panic. He’d been so busy planning a perfect Christmas for Verity, he’d completely forgotten to get gifts for his coworkers. He’d figure something out tonight, he should have enough time after getting groceries to do some quick shopping for his MJN colleagues. 

A call from ATC advising possible turbulence ahead distracted them for a few moments, and Arthur headed back into the cabin to start drinks service for their handful of corporate passengers.

Afterwards, Douglas and Martin started a new word game: band names that could be tourist attractions. So far Martin had _Alien Ant Farm_ and _Fountains of Wayne_ , and after some persuasion, Douglas had _Barenaked Ladies_.

“That certainly would be a memorable family holiday, wouldn’t it?” Martin laughed. 

“No doubt,” Douglas agreed. After a moment of silence, “I think my most memorable family holiday was when I was 11. It was my first trip to America; my Aunt was getting married in Florida. The wedding was boring but we stayed long enough to spend a few days at Disney World. I finagled my way into a parade at Magic Kingdom,” Douglas said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. 

“No you didn’t!” Martin gasped, jaw dropping. 

"Yep. My parents were distracted dealing with my brother, and I snuck through a gate into a restricted area. The cast members were getting ready, and one of the Seven Dwarves -- Doc, if I remember correctly -- was struggling with a zipper on his suit and didn’t see me steal his head off a table nearby. I was about the right height for the part so no one noticed straightaway. Then I started bumping into things -- it was much harder to see out of the mask than I’d anticipated -- and I could tell I was raising suspicion. I ditched the Doc head and climbed aboard the first vehicle I saw. My parents only realized I’d gone missing when they saw me waving to them from inside Cinderella’s carriage, next to the princess herself. I was escorted off by Chip and Dale.” 

Martin dissolved into laughter, throwing his head back and clutching his stomach. After a minute he finally composed himself, shaking his head and wiping away tears. Douglas couldn’t help grinning himself, especially seeing Martin so tickled. The laughter lit up his face and made him look so young and happy. Douglas much preferred it to the somber, anxious Martin he used to know. 

Things were easy on the flight deck these days. In all the time Martin had worked for MJN, Douglas had finally gotten him to loosen up. Things that would have stressed Martin last year now only made him roll his eyes and shoot Douglas an amused smirk. Douglas found himself paying more attention to the jibes he threw at Martin to make sure they wouldn’t be accidentally hurtful. There were fewer arguments and a lot more laughter.

Of course they still had the occasional debate, but it was as if they were finally dialled into the same channel. When it came to flying, Douglas could read Martin’s body language and Martin was able to finish Douglas’s sentences. They rarely disagreed on the course of action when situations arose that required creative decision-making now.

Perhaps most surprising to Douglas was the fact that he now _enjoyed_ Martin’s company, and actually looked forward to seeing him everyday. When he wasn’t at work, Douglas would find himself chuckling randomly, remembering a joke or story they’d shared earlier. He’d see something on television and remember it so he could tell Martin later. Douglas didn’t have much of a social life, and although he wouldn’t have believed it a year ago, now he was happy to consider Martin his friend. In fact … his _best_ friend.

If Douglas was honest with himself, lately there even seemed to be the hint of something more growing between them. An unnecessary touch on the shoulder that lingered a moment too long. A smile that revealed the sort of vulnerable honesty shared by those who were more than just friends. The desire to ask more personal questions. The willingness to answer corresponding queries honestly, without hesitation.

Douglas didn’t want to admit he’d allowed his mind to wander ahead down the path he was beginning to hope they were on. His battle-scarred heart tried to convince him he was reading too much into it, and warned him against wishing too hard, but Douglas Richardson always was a sucker for sappy love stories. He was an even bigger fool when he thought he might be in one.

“How about you? What was your most memorable Crieff family holiday?” Douglas asked, and Martin pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes as he thought. 

“My Grandmother died when I was 6,” he began, and Douglas gave him a sympathetic look. Martin shrugged. “It’s all right, she was very old and died peacefully in her sleep. I had only met her a few times. But because it was short notice, and she’d lived on the Isle of Skye, we had to fly to the funeral. My family didn’t have much money, so it was a real treat to go on an aeroplane.

“My mother put me in the window seat because she thought I might not sit still for the flight. She wanted to ensure I couldn’t get up to move around the cabin before she could catch me, but I was _captivated_. I remember being so fascinated by every little thing … the rows of seats, the window shade, the little fan and light each passenger had above them. How impossibly tiny everything was on the ground below us.” He laughed, remembering. “I couldn’t contain myself when we went through the clouds. It was so magical and mystifying. Before that, I wanted to _be_ an aeroplane, I didn’t understand why everyone told me I couldn’t until I was _inside_ of one.” 

Douglas found the corners of his mouth tugging up at the image of a tiny red-headed child, running in the yard, arms outstretched, making zooming noises. Little Martin, eyes alight, completely in awe on his first plane ride. It made Douglas’s heart swell with fondness. 

“Back then, obviously security wasn’t as strict, and a nice member of the cabin crew brought me, Catelynn, and Simon up to meet the pilots once we were in the air. I had so many questions, and the pilots humored me and answered them all. I don’t know how long I stayed up there, but my brother and sister went back to their seats long before I was done. Catelynn was more interested in the _Babysitter’s Club_ book she was reading, and Simon was terrified of flying, even though he’d never admit to it now. Eventually my mother dragged me away, but … I knew. No matter what it took, I would be a pilot one day.” A warm, assured smile spread across Martin’s face. 

He shook his head as he continued, abashed yet fond as he remembered his 6-year-old self. “I read everything I could get my hands on about aviation at the Wokingham library. There wasn’t much for my age group, so I had to venture up to the adult stacks. The librarians refused to let me check out the books -- probably assumed I’d color in them or something -- so I had to stay at the library and read there at first. Every day after school, I’d find a quiet desk, retrieve _The Fundamentals of Aeronautics,_ and write down the words I didn’t know to ask my teacher about the next day. Eventually, I could read the whole first chapter on my own.  

“I made my case to the librarians again, proving to them that I was really interested and would be responsible if they’d let me bring the books home. I demonstrated my reading and comprehension to the library manager. He consented after I’d finished the first page, but I insisted he sit until I read the entire chapter.” 

Douglas chuckled. “I suppose the rest is history, then, Captain.” He caught Martin’s eye with a smile, and Martin grinned back; that open, honest smile that Douglas was sure he alone had the pleasure of seeing. 

Martin looked around the flight deck, taking in his reality, and nodded proudly. “That it is.” 

It really hit Douglas then -- flying GERTI was _literally_ Martin’s dream come true. Douglas couldn’t help but view his job at MJN as a demotion; penance for his misdeeds at Air England. But to Martin, this was a reward for everything he’d worked for since he’d been a child. He’d always wondered why Martin would devote so much of his time to doing this job for free, but in reality, he had been flying planes for free in his mind for decades, viewing it as a hobby he’d be lucky to experience. It was humbling, and incredibly endearing.

The shortbread was forgotten until they’d landed in Fitton. The little red package lay untouched, and Arthur could’ve popped in at any moment. The unopened biscuits would no doubt feel like a rejection. Douglas looked up to see Martin appeared to be thinking the same thing.

“I forgot they were even there,” Martin said ruefully. 

“Why don’t you take them?” Douglas offered, knowing Martin’s appetite these days put his own to shame. “Save them for later.” 

“You said they were your favorite,” Martin countered. “You should have them.” 

“My Aunt Edna sends me a big tin of them every year for Christmas; I’ll probably go home to her package on my doorstep and be swimming in shortbread for a month. They’re all yours.” 

Martin ducked his head and grinned, almost a little too gratefully for something so insignificant. “Thank you,” he said, schooling his features, and tucked the cookies into a padded pocket in his bag.

“Think nothing of it,” Douglas replied casually, even though he wished he could rewind the moment to see Martin’s abashed smile again. “Tis the season for sharing, and it was Arthur’s miracle, afterall.” 

Douglas did feel rather spirited today. Tonight after dinner he’d to head to the grocery store to get all of the fixings for a Christmas feast, and before heading home, stop at the butcher to pick up the roast he’d ordered. He was still trying to decide between two new pudding recipes, and thought he might end up just buying ingredients for both.

The sound of Arthur hoovering signaled it was time to pack up. It would be dark soon, and after an incredibly mild early December, it was finally below freezing in Fitton. 

Douglas went to retrieve his things from the small locker near the galley, pushing aside Arthur’s bright red parka and Carolyn’s subdued aubergine down coat to find his own. As Douglas grabbed his thick wool jacket, something fell off of a hanger behind it. Before Douglas could bend to pick it up, Martin spoke up behind him.

“Oh, I can -- that’s -- here, let me get it.”

Martin nudged him forward in the cramped aisle before Douglas could protest, and snatched the thin, frayed, grey hoodie that had fallen into a heap on the floor.  

Douglas reasoned the least he could do was hand Martin his coat after he knocked the man’s sweatshirt to the ground, but when he looked back at the small rack, he realized there wasn’t one.

“Martin, it’s freezing outside -- is that all you’re wearing?” Douglas asked, surprised. 

“Yes, I … forgot to check the weather this morning before I left.” Martin huffed out a small, self-deprecating laugh and looked at the floor. “I got used to the warm December days, but I guess we couldn’t outrun winter forever. I’ll have to go through my things tonight, see if I can remember where I stashed my winter coat back in the spring.”

Douglas’s brow furrowed. Now more than ever, he could read Martin like a book, and right now, it seemed pretty obvious the captain was lying. 

Before Douglas could think too much about it, Carolyn reached behind him to pull her coat out of the locker.

She looked at her watch before pulling her glove up over it. “Martin, you need to file that paperwork for the Yates trip tonight. Is everything shut down? I’m heading to the Portakabin and you have until I finish my call with the Rugby club we’re taking to Sydney to finish it. If you dilly-dally, you’ll have to work without the heat. It’s not free to warm the office, you know.”

“Coming,” he replied, then turned back to Douglas. “See you tomorrow.” He squeezed past Douglas and pulled on his hoodie before bounding down GERTI’s steps after Carolyn. Douglas watched him disappear across the tarmac, a wave of unease washing over him.

The sound of the hoovering stopped. “Everything okay, Douglas?” Arthur called from the back of the plane, and Douglas realized he was still staring out the door, even though Martin was long gone. 

He nodded and raised his hand. “Yes, sorry. Goodnight, Arthur.” He pulled his scarf over his nose as he walked down the steps. The cold wind bit at his face mercilessly.

In the car, Douglas turned the heater on full blast and dialed the radio to the Christmas station. The familiar songs swept away his thoughts of the day and reminded him that in less than 24 hours he’d be with his daughter. He hummed along to Bing Crosby as he headed back to town, sun setting in the rearview mirror.   

 

* * *

 

No one could beat Halloran’s Butcher Shop when it came to roasts. This year’s selection was so beautiful Douglas wanted to take a picture and frame it. The perfect size for he and Verity to share, with plenty leftover for sandwiches the day after Christmas. His mouth was already watering. 

Douglas placed the brown paper-wrapped roast in the boot next to all the other groceries and jogged around to the driver’s side door, already chilled to the bone despite how short the walk to his car had been. His pocket began to buzz as he climbed into the car, and he answered it with one hand while starting the engine with the other.

“Hi, Daddy!”

“Verity!” he exclaimed, chest swelling with affection. “I just picked up our Christmas dinner! I’m practically counting down the minutes. I’ve missed you so much!”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, then, “I miss you too, Daddy! So, um… I wanted to talk to you…”

Douglas felt himself tense. It was obvious from her tone something was wrong.

“What is it?” he asked, even as he started calculating how long it would take him to drive to her mother’s house if she needed him to come.

“You know my best friend Emma?”

Douglas hesitantly hummed in agreement. 

Her words came out in a rush, speaking at a speed only teenage girls can manage. “Her parents are taking her to the Bahamas for Christmas, and her cousin was supposed to go with, but she has a terrible case of mono, and I wouldn’t have to pay for a _single thing_ , not the plane or the resort or food or _anything_ , they’d have me as their guest, isn’t that so generous? And the Bahamas are so beautiful and warm this time of year and Emma is my best friend in _the whole world_ , and it would be _such_ a fun trip, they have so many excursions planned, they’ve even rented a boat and a private instructor to teach us SCUBA diving, and Mum said it was up to you.”

It took Douglas a moment of processing to realize she’d stopped talking, her unspoken question hanging in the air between them.

“But… you don’t want to come for Christmas?” His heart sank. “I had everything planned… I have your gifts, and the tree…” he trailed off, dazed by the turn of events.

“It’s not that I don’t _want_ to, Daddy, but what if we postpone our Christmas a few weeks? I can come out right after New Year’s instead. School doesn’t start until the week after that. This way I can do _both_ things and _everyone_ is happy! Pleeeeaaaasssseee?”  

Douglas wasn’t sure if Verity had a correct understanding of the fact that the aforementioned “everyone” included him, and he was definitely not happy. 

But if he said no and denied her this trip, he had no doubt she’d spend the holiday in a resentful strop, and then “everyone” would definitely be _unhappy_. Instead, it all hinged on Douglas, and as disappointed and frustrated as he was, he didn’t fancy the thought of playing the bad guy. Especially at Christmas.

 

* * *

 

Douglas looked down at the phone in his hand as if it were an alien object. After speaking with his ex-wife (who insisted Emma’s parents hadn’t asked for her opinion on the trip before making the offer to Verity, but that she had no objections), he begrudgingly agreed that Verity could spend her Christmas in the Bahamas on holiday. They worked out details for her trip to see Douglas in early January, and with a squeal of delight and a “thank you, thank you, _thank you sooo much_ , Daddy! I love you!” Verity rang off.

He sat stunned as the change of plans sunk in. Douglas thought of all the food in the trunk and felt anger spread through him. How dare Emma’s parents take his daughter away for the most important day of the year? With as rarely as he saw her, and the fact that they only got to spend every _other_ Christmas together, he felt absolutely robbed. Didn’t they know how much this meant to him? 

But who _wouldn’t_ choose an all-expenses-paid trip to a tropical paradise over Fitton? Especially at Verity’s age, he knew the prospect of going on holiday with her best friend felt truly adventurous. It was an impossible situation, and he internally cursed Emma and her apparently filthy rich parents for offering the trip to Verity before he had a chance to object. They should have reached out to him, or at least his ex-wife, before getting Emma and Verity involved. It would have been easier to politely decline in a conversation between adults and the children would have been none-the-wiser. 

He was also hurt that Verity found it so easy to change her plans, apparently not as excited to see him as Douglas was to see her. He’d been planning for months looking forward to these next few days. It was painful to realize that spending time with him was no longer high on Verity’s list of priorities. 

He’d never spent Christmas alone before. He’d always had a girlfriend or wife (or in the case of his brief year in medical school, a boyfriend) to cozy up with, and since Verity had been born, had witnessed the magic of the season in a new way through her. He always looked forward to the crackling fire, hot cinnamon-apple cider, and trimming the tree, but what was the point in doing those things alone? 

Now that he and Helena were divorced, there was no one else for Douglas to be with at the holidays. His parents were long gone, and his only brother lived in Chicago. Douglas had lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins, but wasn’t particularly close to any of them. Certainly not enough to be invited for Christmas dinner. 

The only other people he saw regularly were employees at the stores and restaurants he frequented, and his co-workers. Carolyn and Arthur were heading to Northampton with Herc, and Martin to Wokingham for Christmas. And it wasn’t as if Douglas could invite himself along, although he had briefly wondered what a Crieff family Christmas was like. He hoped Martin’s brother Simon wouldn’t give him any grief this year, but from the stories he’d heard, the likelihood of that wasn’t very promising. 

What did lonely people do on Christmas? Douglas realized he’d soon find out.

He took a deep breath and pulled away from his parking spot in front of Halloran’s, winding through Fitton’s small downtown area. He glared at the happy people and their shopping bags full of gifts and the lights displays that had been put up around the town square. 

Stopping at a red light, Douglas’s eyes wandered as his thoughts churned. He almost missed the thin figure in the threadbare hoodie hurrying down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in the front pocket of the sweatshirt. Suddenly a gust of wind blew the hood back, revealing a shock of red hair. Douglas’s mouth fell open in surprise.

Martin, apparently, still hadn’t tracked down his winter coat. He looked positively frozen, and Douglas glanced in the direction Martin had come from to see where he’d parked, but the van was nowhere in sight. He had a vague idea of where Martin lived, but it was at least two kilometers away … surely he hadn’t walked? He was about to roll down his window and call out to offer him a ride, when Martin ducked into a storefront. 

Above the door hung a worn wooden sign: **FITTON FOOD BANK**. 

Douglas felt the air leave his lungs. A horn blared behind him, startling Douglas out of his trance. The light was green. He drove through the intersection and took the first turn he could, pulling over on a sidestreet to gather his thoughts. 

Martin was relying on a food pantry to eat? Douglas almost felt like he’d imagined it, the whole thing seemed so surreal. Were things really so dire that he couldn’t feed himself without help from charity? Why hadn’t Douglas realized?   

Martin rarely complained about anything. Douglas heard him mention he lived in a shared student house once to Carolyn. He knew Carolyn didn’t pay Martin, but he managed to pay the bills by working delivery jobs with his van … didn’t he? 

Memories started coming back to Douglas, things that had stood out as odd at the time, but he had eventually shrugged off as another of Martin’s endearing quirks. Things that made a lot more sense in light of this new information.

Two months ago on a trip to Montreal, Martin had tripped over a kerb and the sole had torn halfway off of his right work shoe. Douglas hadn’t realized that the black leather shoes were worn down near tatters, hidden beneath the layer of shoe polish Martin meticulously applied. Martin had no choice but to replace them then and there, paying more at a tourist shop selling leather goods than he would have back home at the discount store. 

Douglas remembered examining the old shoes as Martin laced up the new ones and remarking that the oxfords had seen more mileage than GERTI. Aside from embarrassment, Martin had had a nauseated look about him for the rest of the trip, and insisted on bringing his old shoes home with him. Douglas now realized the unplanned purchase probably had a much larger impact on Martin’s finances than he originally guessed. 

Martin had cycled to the airfield all of autumn on a rusty blue mountain bike with a torn seat. After the first week, Douglas paid extra attention as he drove part of the route Martin took between the airfield and Fitton. In many areas it seemed downright dangerous; blind curves with barely a shoulder to put distance between a bicycle and car, or spots that were littered with debris that could easily blow a bicycle tire. There were no street lights for long portions of the trek, only Martin’s single, rear reflector to alert drivers that he was on the road with them at night.  

When Douglas confronted him with those facts, Martin chuckled and claimed he was trying to get some desperately needed exercise. “It’s quite sedentary, flying an aeroplane,” he’d remarked to a scornful Douglas (who resented the fact that Martin was right, and didn’t feel like doing much to change it).

Had he been cycling to save money on petrol? Or to cut down on wear-and-tear on the van? Or was the van simply not working at the time? If Douglas hadn’t just seen it in the car park hours ago, he would worry Martin had sold it.

There had been several jobs lately where a lull in conversation had been accented by Martin’s stomach loudly growling. Flushed, he’d played it off as having eaten something that hadn’t agreed with him instead of hunger, but wolfed down practically anything that Arthur brought him, no matter how off-putting it looked. Douglas had made a crack about Martin inhaling food like a vacuum, and in the case of Arthur’s creations, having taste buds like a goat. 

Martin had stammered that the increase in appetite was due to the additional exercise he was getting riding his bike. Douglas had assumed the weight loss was the same... not that Martin had ever had any weight to spare in the first place. 

How could Douglas have guessed Martin was hungrier than any of them could have suspected? He was ashamed at himself for every every time he’d fought dirty for the cheese tray, delighted at winning the best snacks when Martin had truly needed the nutrition.

Douglas found the anger he’d felt after Verity’s phone call returning again, along with something else that felt a lot like hurt. Why hadn’t Martin said anything? They had gotten so close, Martin should know he could confide in Douglas and Douglas would help him. Of course he would. 

He resisted the urge to turn back and confront Martin, but inside of a food pantry or outside in the cold weren’t the right spots for an intervention. Did Carolyn know things were this bad? Would she even care? Having support to confront Martin might help Douglas convince Martin… of what? That he needed to leave MJN and find a paying job? It was a sad thought, but not as sad as the idea that Martin was starving. 

Still, Douglas knew: Martin held tightly to his pride. He wouldn’t ask for help because all he had was the high-horse he’d miraculously wrangled, and he wouldn’t give up the reins. Douglas knew how much being a pilot meant to Martin; especially now that Martin had shared the story of his first flight with him. But it was madness if he was sacrificing his own well being just to keep working for MJN.

Douglas realized his knuckles were white where they gripped the steering wheel. He tried to ignore the itch at the back of his mind, the urge to loosen his anger at the world with a drink; to spend the night in an amber liquid haze. How had things gone so wrong so quickly? Less than an hour ago he’d been practically clicking his heels in excitement with so much to look forward to.

Now Verity was leaving him in favor of a suntan and Martin was wasting away in poverty. 

Douglas needed to think. He had no idea how to help Martin, but he’d think of something in the next few days. Once Martin got back from spending Christmas with his family in Wokingham, they would talk. Douglas would find a way to help.

Heading away from the food bank toward home, he channeled all this new darkness (sadness and frustration and anger) into hate for everything merry, completely forgetting he hadn’t yet finished all of his shopping.


	2. December 23rd

 

After he’d arrived home last night, Douglas had scornfully put the roast and groceries away and proceeded to go through the house, unplugging anything that twinkled. He frowned at the spruce as he tugged the power cord for the lights from the wall, watching the tiny colorful bulbs go dark. He idly wondered if the tree would manage stay alive until Verity arrived on January 2nd.

What was the point in keeping the decorations up, anyway? Christmas would be over when she got here, and it didn’t seem she was all that hung up on the details of the holiday anyway. Douglas certainly didn’t want to look at any of it right now.

So he’d gone up to bed, unwilling to sit among the ruins of the celebration he’d waited so long for, but had tossed and turned most of the night, alternating between disappointment, anger, guilt, and downright sadness. Eventually he’d given up trying to sleep and rolled out of bed an hour early. He bitterly slogged through his morning routine, feeling as miserly as the grinch.

Now his only thought was making it through the day so he could go home and sulk until Christmas was over.

The glint on one of Verity’s gold-wrapped presents caught Douglas’s eye as he walked down the stairs, and he swore under his breath. He had been so distracted by everything that had happened last night, he’d forgotten to go shopping for gifts for Martin, Arthur, and Carolyn.

At this time of the morning, none of the shops in Fitton would be open. They had two hours between their arrival and departure flights at Aberdeen International Airport. Douglas remembered with relief they had a WHSmith and a Dixons. Well… Dixons might be a little tough with their £20 limit, but WHSmith had a ton of giftable things. He’d just have to figure out how to wrap whatever he bought on the plane and smuggle it back to Fitton.

He should have felt guilty he’d forgotten in the first place, but Douglas was only irritated. He wasn’t in the mood to do anything, let alone run around an airport looking for for meaningless gifts. He didn’t even want the gifts that he knew had been bought for him. All Douglas wanted was this wretched Christmas to be over.

 

* * *

 

As usual, Martin, Carolyn, and Arthur were already in the Portakabin when Douglas arrived late. Carolyn raised her eyebrow and pointedly looked at the clock, but said nothing, channeling the spirit of Christmas into uncharacteristic leniency. Douglas found he couldn’t be arsed to care. He made it in before the client, and that was all that mattered.

An artificial Christmas tree was set up in the corner of the Portakabin, and Arthur and Martin, both clad in Santa hats, were decorating it. Martin held a box of glass ornaments and Arthur was trying to untangle himself from the blinking strand of lights he’d somehow gotten wrapped up in. Arthur’s mobile sat on the table, playing Christmas music through its small, tinny speakers.

“Merry Christmas Eve Eve, Douglas!” Arthur exclaimed, huge grin spread across his face. “We were hoping you’d get here soon, you’re the only one tall enough to put the star on top!”

Martin didn’t even scoff over Arthur’s height remark, and threw Douglas a genuine smile. Douglas resisted the urge to groan and went to sit down instead. Arthur and Martin exchanged a worried look.

“Everything alright, Douglas?” Martin asked cautiously, putting down the box of ornaments and turning toward him.

Douglas wanted to shout, _no everything is most certainly not all right. Call off this sodding Christmas! My child has been hijacked and you’ve been keeping things from me!_ Instead he just grunted non-commitally.

Arthur finally rid himself of the fairy lights. “Oooh, maybe he’s hungry, Skip! You know, like that Mariah Carey song! _All I want for Christmas is fooooooood!”_

Arthur’s mis-sung lyrics brought back the image of Martin ducking into the food bank. Douglas searched Martin’s face for some hint of distress … some sign that he had missed before. But Martin only looked concerned by Douglas’s odd behavior. Otherwise, he seemed perfectly fine, completely himself.

“All I want for Christmas is YOU, Arthur,” Martin said with a smile.

“Aww, that’s so sweet of you to say, Skipper!”

“He means the _song lyrics_ , Arthur,” Carolyn murmured.

Arthur’s mouth dropped open and his brow furrowed as he rethought the song with the right words, then he shrugged and brightened again. “Well, I still have just the thing to cheer you up, Douglas!” he went behind Carolyn’s desk and bent to fish something from a brown paper bag. He popped up with a flourish, holding out a dark and brick-shaped object. “Fruitcake!”  

Douglas suppressed a grimace of disgust. “I’ll pass,” he said, trying not to read anything into it when Martin happily dug into the slice he was handed. _At least he’s getting some calories_ , Douglas thought, noticing the way the heavy cake bent the paper plate in Martin’s hand. He just hoped Martin didn’t regret it by the time they were in the air. Just thinking about the syrupy, dense confection made Douglas’s stomach turn.

 

* * *

 

The first flight was quick and quiet. Their client, a sweet older lady named Mrs Hudson, was flying to visit her sister in Aberdeen for Christmas. For the return trip, they were bringing a load of students from The University of Aberdeen home.  

Mrs Hudson didn’t seem like the typical client that would be able to afford the luxury of a private plane, but it wasn’t like Douglas was privy to her life story. She could drive a sports car for all he knew.

“I’ve got a bad hip,” he heard her commenting to Carolyn. “Sitting for too long on the train gives me all sorts of trouble.”

Mrs Hudson immediately took to Arthur and referred to Martin and Douglas as “dears.”

“It’s so nice to see someone with such Christmas spirit!” she praised, after Arthur handed her a candy cane and tipped his Santa hat with a grin.

“Is it?” Carolyn replied with a tone straddling bemused and uncomprehending.

“Absolutely. My boys … they’re so stoic around the holidays. I know they love Christmas but neither of them will really admit it. I don’t know why, everyone is allowed to be happy on Christmas!”

Douglas looked at his watch, irritated at the conversation. It was close enough to take-off. He reached behind him and closed the flight deck door with a huff, and grunted his way through the pre-takeoff checks.

His attitude wasn’t improved by the surreptitious glances Martin kept sending his way once they were in the air. Douglas knew his brooding had been noted, but didn’t have the energy to fake anything else. He felt like he was holding his emotions in check by the skin of his teeth.

As much as he wanted to confront Martin about the food bank, Douglas knew this wasn’t the right time or place. He needed to do more thinking about it anyway, and come up with some solutions before he admitted what he knew to Martin. By the time they came back to work after Christmas, he’d have a clearer idea of how to handle the situation. He resolved to put it out of his mind for the time being, and went back to brooding over Verity.

Blissfully, the cockpit dialog stayed purely professional until they hit cruising altitude. Martin feigned nonchalance as he set the cruise control. “So when does Verity’s train arrive?”

Douglas took a deep breath and grit his teeth for a moment before he answered. “January 2nd.”

Martin’s head snapped up to look at Douglas. “But I thought--”

“Yes, so did I. But Christmas with her boring old dad couldn’t hold a candle to the free vacation to paradise her best friend’s parents offered to whisk her away on.”

Martin’s shoulders slumped and his eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Douglas. That’s awful. I know how much you were looking forward to spending Christmas with her.”

Douglas knew it shouldn’t make him mad, but he didn’t want pity. Especially not from Martin. “It’s fine,” he muttered passive-aggressively. “We rescheduled, she’ll come out after New Years Day. We’ll just wait to have our celebration until then.”

“But what are you going to do --”

“Martin, please … I don’t feel like discussing it.”

“Well, it’s just … if you aren’t doing anything, my Mum is going to --”

“ _Martin._ ”

Martin nodded once and turned back to look out the cockpit window. “Right. Yes. Sorry.”

 

* * *

 

A young mother waiting near the bathrooms shot Douglas a disgusted look and shuffled her children closer to her defensively. A moment later, her husband exited the men’s loo and rejoined them. She whispered to him and they both turned to glare at him again before heading to their gate.

Douglas rolled his eyes and let out frustrated sigh. Well, he supposed he _did_ curse a bit louder and more explicitly  than he’d meant to.

A sign on the door of WHSmith cheerfully apologized for the inconvenience and informed him they hoped to see him in the New Year, or at one of their other locations. A store remodel during Christmas? The busiest travel and shopping times of the year? Who made that idiotic decision? If Douglas were the angry-letter writing type, he’d already be licking the envelope and adhering the stamp.

He glanced around, putting on a face of indifference just in case, but the other members of MJN were nowhere to be seen. Douglas had darted off of the plane so quickly he didn’t know if he should expect them in the terminal or not.

Aberdeen airport was tiny, with only 12 gates and two baggage claims. There were a few shops and restaurants, but Douglas couldn’t rely on the crowds to camouflage him here. He’d have to shop quickly.

Douglas crossed his fingers and ducked into the duty free shop.

 

* * *

 

The students were well behaved enough, but the lot of them was naturally much louder than Mrs Hudson had been. The thin metal door did little to block out the hum of happy conversations punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter.

Douglas pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He’d been clenching his jaw all morning, and now had a whopper of a headache. He just couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he should be looking forward to right now but wasn’t. He’d also insisted he wasn’t hungry and let Martin eat both of their snacks on the trip in, planning to grab a quick bite at the airport, but it had slipped his mind as the shopping situation turned dismal. Now Douglas definitely _was_ hungry, and there hadn’t been a snack on the return trip.

He checked his watch. Verity would be in the air right now too, on her way to the Bahamas, instead of on a train en route to Fitton. Douglas wanted this flight to be over so he could be left alone to mope, but the thought of going back to his dark, empty house made him grind his teeth again. The dull pain behind his eyes increased in protest.

“How about names that make sense for both strippers and elves?” Martin offered with a hopeful smile. “I’ll start. Sparkles.”

When Douglas didn’t reply, Martin tried again. “Holly.”

More silence. “Coco.”

Douglas groaned. “Martin, please. I’m _really_ not in the mood right now.” He pretended he didn’t see Martin deflate a little at being brushed off and dug through his flight bag for paracetamol.

The trip home was less than two hours from takeoff to landing, but it felt like an eternity. Douglas didn’t want to admit it would have gone faster if he’d played along with Martin’s game. The few times Martin had tried to start an innocuous conversation, Douglas had snapped at him.

“Post-landing checks complete,” Douglas announced dully, before standing to stretch.

“Thank you, Douglas,” Martin said softly, then stood and left the flight deck before Douglas could. The sound of the crew locker clicking open and closed made Douglas sigh ruefully, remembering Martin’s thin sweatshirt hanging there again this morning.

He hadn’t meant to be so mean to Martin, especially today. He had been so focused on his own dashed holiday hopes and his panicked errand. Martin had acted so normally today, and Douglas had stopped dwelling on Martin’s financial situation once he’d decided to push the conversation to a later date in the calendar.

At least Martin was spending Christmas with his family. His mother would feed him up while he was home, and Douglas would have time to get his thoughts together and talk to Carolyn. They could decide what to do to help Martin when they all came back in a few days.

“Douglas?” Arthur called cheerfully, poking his head (still with Santa hat) into the cockpit a moment later. “Time for presents! You ready to head out?”

Douglas stood slowly. “On my way,” he replied, forcing a small smile to his face for Arthur’s sake. He turned to make sure everything was shut down, gathered his coat and bag (tactfully rumpled to obscure the _duty free_ label along the side), and trudged back to the Portakabin.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you so much, Carolyn and Arthur!” Martin said, fingers running over the pairs of soft, thick wool socks they’d given him. “I’m tempted to put a pair of these on now!” Martin laughed, and Douglas wished he would. At least then some part of Martin would be properly dressed for this cold weather.

Douglas looked down at a similar package in his own lap, struggling to think of something to say. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt wool this soft in my life,” he managed with a smile, trying to muster up the energy to at least _pretend_ he was having a good time. The act must have worked because Martin looked up a little surprised, then smiled at him hesitantly.

“It’s Merino wool,” Arthur explained. “Made from the softest sheep in the world! We got Herc a few pairs too!”

“Yes,” Carolyn said, smiling devilishly. “I’m going to remove the tags and tell him they’re a synthetic blend until he puts them on. He’ll be so ... surprised!”

“One extra thing, from me,” Arthur said, giving Martin and Douglas each a small box. “I made them myself.”

Douglas opened his box to find a miniature Talisker bottle filled with gold glitter, an ornament hook affixed to the top, with a little tag that said “PROPERTY OF.” The name “CAROLYN” had been written first, and had a big red line through it. Underneath it, “DOUGLAS” was scrawled. He found himself chuckling in genuine appreciation, and Arthur beamed.

Beside him, Martin held up a tiny Lockheed McDonnell plane with MJN and GERTI piped onto it in tiny red and green metallic letters. An impossibly tiny Santa hat was glued over the cockpit, as if GERTI was wearing it. Instead of a hook, the ornament hung from a loop of gold braid. Martin grinned and shook his head in awe.

“There’s really only one word for this,” Martin said, and cocked an eyebrow at Douglas, who understood immediately.

“Brilliant!” they said in unison, and Arthur ducked his head and blushed at achieving that highest compliment. Douglas found himself genuinely smiling. Then remembered it was his turn to hand out gifts.

He’d been lucky enough to find a Boots on the other side of the airport, and picked up some Christmas gift bags from their seasonal aisle. Finding something at the duty free in the agreed on price range hadn’t been easy.

Still, Carolyn liked her french hand lotion and Arthur and Martin seemed excited enough about the chocolates. Crisis averted. Douglas looked at the clock, hoping there were no festivities planned after the gift exchange.

Martin stood to pack his presents in his flight bag, then returned with the gifts he’d gotten for Carolyn, Arthur, and Douglas.

“Merry Christmas, Douglas,” Martin said with a bashful smile, handing him a long, thin tube wrapped in the comics section of the newspaper. Carolyn and Arthur held similarly wrapped gifts of their own. Martin’s eyes twinkled as he waited for their reactions.

Arthur was first, gasping when he got the wrapping off. “Wow, Skip! This is amazing!” He held up a large book, entitled _Toblerone: 100 Years - the Story of a Swiss World Success._ “Where did you find it?”

“A little book shop in Austria,” Martin grinned. “It wasn’t easy to track down, it’s been out of print for awhile.”

“It’s absolutely perfect!” Arthur shook his head in disbelief as he started to thumb through it. He stopped at a page and after a moment his eyes went wide. “Wow! Did you know if you laid out all of the Toblerones that are sold each year it would be 62,000 kilometers long! That's longer than the circumference of Earth!” Overwhelmed with excitement, he tackled a surprised Martin in a bear hug. “Thank you, Skip! Now I can be an expert at Toblerones!”

“You’re already an expert at eating them,” Carolyn remarked, but Arthur didn’t catch the sarcasm and nodded enthusiastically.

Carolyn was next. She worked her way through newspaper, a cardboard box, and bubble-wrap, which she handed to Arthur, who was delighted to start popping it right away. Finally, she uncovered the item within. “Oh, Martin,” she said in awe, cradling her gift. A sparkling crystal nameplate, engraved with swooping calligraphy to read:

 _CAROLYN KNAPP-SHAPPEY_  
CEO  
MJN AIR

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “You really shouldn’t have.”

“I thought your desk deserved a decoration worthy of its occupant,” he beamed. Carolyn walked over to her plain, secondhand metal desk and cleared the edge, placing the nameplate proudly front and center.

“Yes, that’s much better,” she agreed after she’d surveyed it for a moment and gave a proud, satisfactory nod of approval.

“Your turn, Douglas!” Arthur announced.  

Douglas looked down at the thin package in his hand. Removing the paper and popping open the tube beneath, Douglas pulled out a delicate, rolled up poster. He unwound it to reveal a beautiful, intricate, hand-drawn map of the world that appeared to be quite old. Douglas felt his jaw drop. He’d always dreamed of owning a map just like this, and even knew the exact spot in his house where he’d hang one, but never _actually_ imagined…

He was speechless. How on Earth had Martin been able to afford something like this?

“I … I don’t know what to say,” he stammered, unable to meet Martin’s eyes. Guilt overwhelmed him at the way he’d treated Martin all day, and the generic present he’d just handed him. Douglas had barely showed Martin the most basic courtesy today, when Martin had only tried to find ways to distract him from his sadness. And all the while, Martin had this incredible gift waiting for Douglas back in Fitton.

“Do you … like it?” Martin asked hesitantly, but Douglas still couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact.

“Yes, of _course_ I like it,” Douglas admitted, but he couldn’t help but frown. His gaze fell on Martin’s hand, idly worrying a frayed hole in the bottom hem of his hoodie. Martin couldn’t even afford food or a winter coat for himself. How much had he spent on all these gifts? On a present Douglas didn’t even deserve?

“But … why?” Douglas managed, finally lifting his head and looking at Martin head on.

What was left of Martin’s smile faded, replaced with confusion. “Well, you ... mentioned you’d always wanted one when we flew that cartographer to Oslo, and--”

“No,” Douglas cut him off firmly, feeling a sudden surge of frustration swell in his chest. “I mean why did you spend so much money on gifts for us? You can’t even afford to _eat!”_

It felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. Carolyn and Arthur stood, eyes wide, looking back and forth between Douglas and Martin.

Martin’s mouth dropped open and he blinked rapidly in surprise. He looked like he’d been slapped. “Wh-What?” he finally managed to choke out.

Carolyn’s tone was laden with shock. “Martin, is that true?”

“N-no,” Martin quickly stammered, anxiety and hurt written all across his face.

“Yes it is,” Douglas said, turning to Carolyn. “I saw him go into the Fitton food bank last night.”

“Oh, Martin,” Carolyn said softly. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Martin’s cheeks flushed, and he swallowed thickly. “No … I didn’t -- I wasn’t --”

“I told you, Mum,” Arthur murmured woefully to Carolyn. He looked like he was on the verge of tears. “I _knew_ Skip was getting too thin.”

“I don’t even think he has a winter coat,” Douglas continued, words flowing too easily, even as alarm bells rang dimly somewhere in the back of his mind. “He’s been freezing in that scrap of cotton he’s been wearing.”

The whole situation was quickly spiralling out of hand. “But … I … ” Martin’s eyes flicked between the three of them; faces that had been delighted moments ago had now turned sad, pitying, and disappointed.

“It was incredibly kind of you to think of us, Martin,” Douglas said, trying not to sound patronizing and failing. He carefully rerolled the map and placed it back in its protective tube. “But it’s important for you to get your financial priorities in order. You need to meet your own basic needs before anything else.”

“I don’t want you to freeze, Skip!” Arthur added sadly. “Or starve!”

“Yes,” Douglas agreed. “And it’s not like you can eat gratitude.”

Martin was shaking now, staring at Douglas with disbelief and contempt and betrayal. He sniffed and blinked back tears, looking at the floor and nodding to himself resolutely, before lifting his eyes to meet Douglas’s.

“Most people just say _thank you_ ,” he whispered coldly, then pushed past them all, grabbed his bag, and bolted from the Portakabin.

“Martin!” Douglas called as the door slammed, the metal clang reverberating harshly in the heavy silence that followed.

“Shit,” Douglas swore quietly.

“Oh, Douglas … ” Carolyn said solemnly. “I really don’t think that was the best way to go about it.”

Arthur pulled his coat off the hook by the door. “We have to go after him,” he said, and Douglas nodded.

“I should go. It’s my fault,” he replied, quickly pulling on his own coat. He reached for the door knob and dropped his head remorsefully. “God, I really bollocksed that up, didn’t I?”

Carolyn sighed from behind him. “That’s a generous way to put it, yes.”

With a sigh, he stepped out of the office, and quickly spotted Martin, heading for the car park. Douglas had to jog to catch up with Martin, who’d already made it halfway there.

“Martin!” he yelled, in between heaving breaths of frigid air. Martin ignored him and picked up his pace. The wind momentarily surged in a howl, blowing Martin’s hoodie tight against his thin body. If the material had been any lighter, Douglas would have been able to make out individual ribs.

“Martin, come on! I’m sorry! Please don’t walk away. Let’s talk about it.”

“Oh, so you finally feel like talking?” Martin called over his shoulder. “Well, now it’s my turn to act like a stroppy arsehole. How does it feel?”

“I’m sorry,” Douglas repeated sincerely, hurrying trying to close the few feet of distance between them. “I was upset about Verity and I took it out on you. It’s not your fault. I was sulking. It was childish, and I sincerely apologize. But Martin, this is serious. If you can’t afford to eat … I’m speaking as your friend—”

Martin stopped suddenly and spun to face Douglas. His eyes were red-rimmed and his eyelashes were wet, but there was no mistake that he was furious. “ _Friend?!”_ he sneered, then let out a short, angry bark of laughter. “Is that what _friends_ do? I’ll admit I haven’t had many in my life, but none have ever given me the cold shoulder all day and then completely … _completely_ _humiliated_ _me_ in front of my colleagues after I gave them _a sodding Christmas gift!_ ”

“You’re right,” Douglas conceded, infusing his voice with calm he did not feel to try and soothe Martin. “That was awful of me. I went about it all wrong, but … I’m _worried_ about you, Martin. I _care_ about you. And I _am_ your friend. Why you didn’t come to me for help? Or to Carolyn or Arthur?”

“Because I didn’t want anyone to know!”

“Martin, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It’s none of your business! I’m a grown man, I can manage on my own.”

Exasperation overwhelmed Douglas at Martin’s ridiculous claim. “You obviously _can’t_ ! And it _is_ my business if you become too malnourished to do your job safely. It could impair your ability to think quickly and make decisions. Or you could get light-headed and pass out—”

Martin’s lip curled in outrage. “How _dare_ you?! I would _never_ consider flying if I was impaired in any way, let alone anywhere _close_ to being a danger—”

Douglas felt himself growing even more heated, all the pent up emotions of the day unleashed like Pandora’s box. His mouth was somehow working without much input from his brain, which was warning him to slow down and think before he said something stupid. Douglas ignored it and continued on, full-steam.

“How can I possibly trust that? You’re so desperate to be a pilot you’re sacrificing your well-being _every day_ to be in the air. Why should I believe you’d have the self-awareness and restraint to bow out when it comes to the well-being of others?”

Martin physically recoiled as if he’d been slapped, face going slack in shock.

“Is that what you think?” The words caught in his throat, a horrified whisper. “You think that I’m so … so _obsessed_ with being a pilot that I’d endanger the most important people in my life … and passengers, and people on the ground … like some … some sort of … _junkie_ desperate to get a fix?”

Suddenly, Douglas was at a loss for words. This conversation had not gone as planned. He was supposed to be out here fixing things. Now it was exponentially worse. “Martin…”

Martin laughed darkly, and shook his head in disbelief. “Of all people … I thought you knew me better than that, Douglas.” Another gust of cold wind ruffled his hair but Martin didn’t even flinch. His eyes were defiant, even as they welled up. “Well then. I’ll prove it to you. Go cold turkey.”

“What?”

“I quit,” he spat, voice shaking with unshed tears. “You can let Carolyn know. I’m done.” He turned and started to stalk away.

“Martin, wait!” Douglas grabbed Martin’s upper arm. Martin refused to turn to face Douglas, but he didn’t pull away.

Douglas’s stomach dropped. How had things gone so wrong so quickly? He was suddenly aware of his hand, and how his fingers could almost touch around Martin’s bicep. He couldn’t let Martin walk away, and he certainly couldn’t let him _quit._

“That’s not what I meant at all. You can’t quit. We need you, Martin. You’re our captain.”

“Not anymore.”

“Don’t do this. You’re overreacting.”

“You’re one to talk,” Martin muttered bitterly.

Douglas ignored him. “I think we both need a reset. Start the conversation over with a clearer head, inside where it’s warmer. I didn’t mean to embarrass you, I’m so sorry. I went about it all wrong. I meant to talk to you privately and … I got caught off-guard by your generous gift. I’m just worried about you, and Carolyn and Arthur are worried too. _We_ _care about you,_ Martin. Please. Come back to the office with me.”

Martin wrenched his arm from Douglas’s grasp. “Tell Carolyn I’ll be back next week to turn in my letter of resignation and my uniform,” he muttered over his shoulder, then straightened his shoulders, sniffed, and held his head high as he walked back to his van.

Douglas watched him go, and the squeal of the van’s tires chilled him more than the cold wind ever could.


	3. Christmas Eve Eve

Douglas trudged back to the Portakabin in a daze, not caring about the relentless icy gales threading their way through the gap in his coat or up the legs of his pants.

What had just happened? _What had he done?_

Stepping into the Portakabin, his heart clenched when he saw the festive, but still starless, Christmas tree.

This whole thing had started over Christmas gifts. During their fight, Douglas had forgotten about Christmas completely, but the enormity of the situation was magnified as he remembered they were hours from Christmas Day.

If only Emma’s parents hadn’t ruined Douglas’s Christmas plans. The call from Verity outside the butcher shop had started a chain reaction. Douglas wouldn’t have seen Martin go into the food bank without those few minutes on the phone to delay him getting home. He would have remembered to get decent gifts for his coworkers last night instead of searching a random airport for passable offerings. He wouldn’t have been in a bad mood all day today, and he wouldn’t have been so careless with his words and emotions when being presented with the nicest gift he’d ever received in his life.

But Douglas knew that wasn’t fair. He was a grown man, in charge of his own feelings and actions. He only had himself to blame for agreeing Verity could change her plans. He should have remembered to do his Christmas shopping for the MJN gift exchange earlier. He had a full day of flights to talk with Martin in confidence about the food bank, but had been too wrapped up in his own moodiness to even make smalltalk. And worst, instead of thanking Martin for the beautiful map, he’d completely humiliated him, then doubted him, and caused him to give up the only thing he’d wanted his whole life. The only thing that consistently brought Martin any joy: flying.

But … surely Martin wouldn’t _really_ leave MJN? Things had been so heated … Douglas wished he could take back the hurtful words he’d said, but Martin didn’t really mean it … did he? He knew Douglas well enough to know Douglas cared about him. They shared something special. But Douglas realized that was exactly why his doubt had pushed Martin over the edge.

Douglas _did_ know Martin better than anyone. If anyone should have known Martin was responsible and trustworthy, it was Douglas. He’d never in his life met a pilot who took his job so seriously.

Martin’s horrified expression, filled the shock and pain of Douglas’s careless accusation, was burned into his mind. Of course Martin would never fly if he was impaired. As much as he’d loosened up over time, Martin still heralded rules and regulations, procedures and plans above all else. He’d never put _anyone_ in danger. Why had Douglas said such stupid, hurtful things?

“What happened? Where’s Skip?” Arthur asked, eyes laden with worry.

“He … he said …” Douglas closed his eyes and swallowed. How could he possibly tell Arthur and Carolyn that Martin had quit?

“What? For god sakes _what did he say?”_ Carolyn urged impatiently.

Douglas scrubbed a hand over his face and forced himself to look at Carolyn and Arthur. “He said he just needs a little space.”

He sat down heavily in the chair across from Carolyn.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen … I had a really bad day and I took it out on him. I’m just so … frustrated. I see things that worry me and I push it aside, because he’s a grown man and surely he can take care of himself. And then I find out he can’t and I feel like I should have known. I shouldn’t have ignored the signs.” Douglas rubbed his eyes. His head ached even more now, but Douglas welcomed the pain. He deserved it.

He tried to fill Carolyn in on everything he knew, all the pieces that had started coming together about how hard Martin had been struggling.

“I don’t know what to do,” Carolyn lamented. “We’re already running at a loss. I want to pay him, but there truly is no money for it. Any more debt and I’ll have to shut down, and then you’ll be out of a job, too.”

Douglas thought about his own finances. His house was paid for, and his car payment was small. He had a small savings account that he was able to add to each paycheck after food and utilities and expenses for Verity, but there was enough there for emergencies.

“Cut my pay,” Douglas decided aloud.  

Carolyn’s eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t make that much to begin with.”

“No, but I can spare a little. I can’t stand the thought that he’s one cancelled van job away from living rough. He’s too loyal for his own good.”

“Indeed,” she agreed, idly running her finger over the top of her new crystal nameplate. “Martin is a good man with a big heart.”

_“_ _You mentioned you’d always wanted one when we flew that cartographer to Oslo,”_ Martin had said of the map. Douglas struggled to remember that trip. They hadn’t been to Oslo since the spring. Martin had been planning a Christmas gift for Douglas since _spring?_

And Douglas had forgotten to buy Martin _anything_. Guilt and shame settled heavily in his gut.

“I have work to do,” he muttered, rising from his chair and heading toward the door.

Carolyn pursed her lips and nodded. “As do I,” she agreed quietly.  

Douglas gathered the gifts he’d not been worthy of before winding his scarf around his neck.

“Happy Christmas, Douglas,” Arthur murmured glumly as Douglas opened the office door to leave. He was staring at the cover of his new Toblerone book with a look of sadness Douglas had never thought he’d see on Arthur’s face.

“Not yet, Arthur, but it will be. I’ll find a way to make it right again.”

 

* * *

 

Douglas wracked his brain as he drove away from the airfield. He wanted desperately to think of a better solution to Martin’s money troubles, but his first priority was apologizing and getting Martin to see reason before he left for Wokingham.

He pulled up in front of the shared house his GPS informed him was Martin’s residence. Sure enough, Martin’s van was parked in the driveway, blocked in by an old dented Peugeot. At least he hadn’t left yet. Douglas took a deep breath, trying to decide what he was going to say. “I’m so sorry” repeated over and over in his head.

Although Douglas wanted Martin to find a paying job, especially now that he knew how bad things were, he didn’t want Martin to quit in anger without something else lined up. Douglas wanted nothing more than to find an alternative solution … MJN couldn’t lose Martin without folding.

But beneath the practical concerns was a more visceral fear: that Douglas had lost his best friend, and the special connection that had been growing between them was irreparably damaged. The panic that flared in Douglas when he confronted that possibility made his already twisted stomach roil once more. He ran his hand through his hair and with another deep breath, got out of the car.

The door to the house swung open as Douglas raised his hand to knock, and a harried looking young woman juggling a large travel bag almost ran into him on her way out. She had been dragging a rolling suitcase, and its wheels were stuck on the metal plate of the threshold.

“Let me help you,” Douglas offered, and defly lifted the case out the door and onto the porch before she could respond.

“Thanks,” she said sheepishly, really looking at him for the first time. She cocked an eyebrow. “Were you … is someone expecting you?”

“Oh, yes, sorry … I’m looking for Martin. We work together at MJN.”

She smiled brightly. “Aww, that’s nice! Martin never has anyone come round. Most everyone else is gone already, visiting their families for Christmas.” She gestured to her own bags to indicate she was doing the same. “Anyway, Martin’s up in the attic, but watch the steps, they’re old and a bit dodgy. Happy Christmas!”

“Happy Christmas,” Douglas murmured, and stepped into the quiet house.

After two full flights of stairs, Douglas found himself looking at set of rough, wooden attic steps. The light was on at the top of them. Douglas took a deep breath, but before he could call up to Martin, Martin’s voice floated down to him.

“No, that sounds like a lovely excursion, Mum. No, I’m … mmhmm … No, I--” Martin sighed in frustration. “I’m _sure_ Mrs Henderson _has_ researched everything … No, I believe you, Mum. I’m just saying, since _I’ve been there before_ , _and she has_ _not_ , that area of Greece is full of pickpockets, so watch your handbag … Mmhmm … What time is the taxi coming? Why couldn’t Simon drive you? Alright, well you better get going, then.”

There was a long pause while Martin listened to whatever his mother was saying on the other end of the line, then he replied with a convincing “No, I’m fine! No, Mum, I won’t be alone. I told you, I’m spending it with my friends from MJN. Yeah … Carolyn’s having all of us to hers for a big to-do. I’m bringing the Brussels sprouts. Mmmhmm. No, honestly, they’re like my Fitton family. Yes, Mum, I will. Have a safe trip. Happy Christmas … All right … Okay. Bye.”

The floor creaked and Douglas heard the sound of a chair being pulled out, then scooted back into place as Martin sat. Then silence.

_My mother’s got quite a bit planned,_ Martin had told Arthur. Turns out what she had planned was a holiday with a friend. And there was something else Martin said that suddenly stuck out to Douglas, even though he’d paid it no mind at the time. _If you aren’t doing anything, my Mum is going to --_

Martin had been about to tell Douglas that they were in the same boat, both losing their Christmas companions to exotic foreign vacations. Douglas felt his heart sink even lower at the realization that Martin had been about to suggest they spend Christmas together, and Douglas had cut him off without even letting him finish the sentence. He could practically hear Martin finish it now: _If you aren’t doing anything, my Mum is going to Greece. Maybe we can spend Christmas together._

He took a moment to steel himself before he gathered enough courage to place his foot on the first step.

“Martin?” he called quietly as he ascended the creaky slats. As his head peeked up through the floor, he saw Martin sitting at his computer with his face buried in his hands.

“Martin?” he tried again, slightly louder.

Martin’s head snapped up, panicked. Seeing it was Douglas, his expression soon turned to anger. “What are you doing here?” he spat, rising to his feet. His cheeks were already flushed red. “I told you to leave me alone.”  

“I came to apologize. I couldn’t let you go with the way we left things. Please, can we talk?”

“What’s left to say?” Martin muttered.

Douglas climbed the last few steps into the attic. “Quite a bit, actually. I said a lot of things I didn’t mean today, and I know I hurt you very badly.” Martin scowled and dropped his eyes to the floor. Douglas continued. “I know I don’t deserve it, but if you give me the chance to say my piece and still want me to leave, I won’t bother you again. I promise.”

Martin clenched his jaw, but after a moment his shoulders slumped and he nodded once.

“Is there somewhere we can sit?” Douglas offered, not wanting to make Martin even more uncomfortable by intruding on his living space.

The attic was small and incredibly cold. Situated under the house’s slanted roof, two of the walls were less than a meter high before the ceiling began sloping up toward the center of the room. A thin layer of exposed insulation was tacked up in between the rafters. A small, round, decorative window on the front and back walls let in a little light, but Douglas could tell it was too high for Martin to be able to see much. Another window leading to a fire escape showed only the brick of the house next door.

Martin’s mattress lay on the floor tucked under the low eaves, piled high with mismatched blankets; an old duvet, a quilt, and two brightly colored throw blankets. The bright red rubber mouth of a hot water bottle peeked out from under the sheets, and a small space heater glowed orange in the corner. Douglas couldn’t even imagine sleeping here on a night like tonight, let alone in the colder months to come. He wondered if the wiring in the attic would support an electric blanket. He knew he had an extra at home he wasn’t using.

Next to the bed, a small bookshelf was crammed with books on aviation. It didn’t surprise Douglas, thinking back to little Martin, determined to make it through the first chapter of _The Fundamentals of Aeronautics_ at age six. On top of the bookshelf was a small hot plate and a single place-setting of dishes.

The computer desk Martin sat at was tiny and the fake wood laminate had ripped away along the side, revealing the particle board beneath. The computer itself was an old beige model, complete with a heavy CRT monitor.

There was a small wardrobe and a chest at the foot of the bed. The only other item in the room was a tiny Christmas tree, strung with a half-working strand of blinking fairy lights and a small handful of ornaments. Douglas saw the tiny GERTI Arthur had given Martin hung at the very top. Martin had come home after everything that had happened at the airfield and still hung that ornament. Maybe there was hope he’d come back to MJN yet.

Martin sighed and spun the desk chair to face the bed. Crouching so he wouldn’t hit his head, Martin sat down on the bed at a 90º angle to the chair, hugging his knees to his chest. He stared adamantly at the floor, unwilling to make eye contact.

Douglas sat in the chair, ignoring the pit of anxiety twisting in his stomach. He took a deep breath and braced his hands on his knees.

“I owe you an apology, Martin. And I know that even the most sincere apology won’t be enough to undo the damage I’ve done today, but for what it’s worth, I am truly sorry. I allowed myself to wallow in self-pity today, and let my bad mood affect me in ways I shouldn’t have. Then I took it out on you, and that was horrible of me.”

Martin clenched his jaw, but said nothing.

Douglas sighed, his eyes wandering to Martin’s little blinking Christmas tree. “I had just finished all the shopping for Verity’s visit last night when she called me to change her plans. I had been so excited to spend Christmas with her. I’d made so many plans and decorated and even planned out our whole Christmas Day menu … and then she was whisked away by people I’ve never met to go on a vacation I could never afford to take her on. And it didn’t bother her in the slightest to miss spending Christmas with me, even though it tore me to pieces.”   

Douglas ran a hand through his hair, stealing a glance at Martin, who still sat stoically on the mattress. “When I saw you go into the food pantry … I didn’t know what to do and I was already upset. And it’s been so cold and you haven’t even had the proper coat. I was ashamed I hadn’t noticed you were in such dire straits, and hurt you didn’t think you could come to me for help. But I was too preoccupied and didn’t know how to bring it up today. So I let it simmer, thinking I’d figure something out after Christmas, not realizing I was closer to boiling over.”

Martin bit his lip, and hugged his knees tighter.

“Then you gave me that incredible map … To be honest, the gift exchange slipped my mind until this morning, and …” Douglas looked down at his hands, chagrined. “I had to get your presents from the duty free in Aberdeen. It wasn’t thoughtful in the least. I found the only things they had in our price range and smuggled them back to Fitton with us. And then you gave me that map, and Carolyn the nameplate, and Arthur the rare book. Your gifts were so thoughtful and generous. So I suppose I was ashamed too, that you had put so much time and care and money into finding things you knew we’d love, even when you were struggling just to eat or stay warm.”

“I didn’t put money into it,” Martin murmured so quietly, Douglas thought he’d misheard.

He took in Martin’s abashed expression and frowned. “But how did you--”

“Luck, mostly. Planning. And a little bit of money, but not what we said we’d spend.” He met Douglas’s eyes, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth for a fleeting moment before he looked back down at the floor. “You know Arthur and his Toblerones … I looked online to see what kinds of Toblerone-related gifts existed. Besides the chocolates themselves, there aren’t any. I saw that there _had_ been a book, but it was out of print and going for over 100 quid on eBay. So when I came across it on a dusty shelf in a used bookshop in Austria for five euros, I grabbed it. Whoever priced it had no idea. I felt guilty, but I knew no one needed that book more than Arthur.”

“And no one would ever appreciate it as much,” Douglas added, smiling when Martin looked up again.

“My van jobs helped with the rest. Carolyn’s gift was a sort of gratuity I got when I helped a repeat customer move engraving equipment. The job took hours because we had to disassemble bits of it to get it out of the old shop, and then reassemble it once it was in the new shop. He let me pick out any item I wanted and customized it for me. I had been stuck on what to get Carolyn until I saw the crystal nameplate. I knew it would be perfect.”

“Yes, her ego had been a little deflated lately, hadn’t it?” Douglas joked, and finally evoked a genuine smile from Martin. A glimmer of hope.

“As for the map … I helped a sweet old lady named Mrs Potter move into one of those assisted-living retirement communities. She only had one daughter who had already come through the house and taken things of sentimental value, and the new flat Mrs Potter was moving to was much, much smaller. She saw me admiring the map, and without thinking, I told her my friend had always wanted one like it. And she told me to take it. As much as I knew you’d love it, I admit I did try to convince her to sell it instead, because I know it has value and it isn’t easy for the elderly with their fixed incomes … but she insisted. Said her husband had made some good investments before he died, and she had been planning to bin it anyway.”

Douglas felt his heart drop. Martin had been working on Christmas for months, thinking about his co-workers even when he was away from MJN working his Icarus Removals jobs. He knew the map was worth enough to help his elderly customer with her bills, but Martin had still given it to Douglas instead of selling it himself and keeping the money. There was really no other way to think about it -- those gifts had been a labor of love.

Martin sighed and turned to face Douglas. “So you see, I didn’t go broke getting your Christmas presents. I couldn’t even afford real wrapping paper. I have my _financial priorities in order_ ,” he said in a voice mimicking Douglas’s just hours earlier. Had he really been so condescending? It was hateful.

Martin huffed out a wry laugh. “Trust me, Douglas. If anyone knows how to budget and prioritize money, it’s those of us who need to make every bit of it count.” He frowned sadly. “Being poor doesn’t mean I can’t participate in Christmas, even when it comes to giving. You were the only ones I exchanged gifts with this year, and I had been looking forward to your reactions for so long.”

“And I absolutely ruined it all for you,” Douglas finished, filling in the words that Martin left unsaid. He had never felt so disgusted with himself. “I absolutely love the map, Martin. It is without a doubt the nicest, most considerate gift I have ever received, and I’ll hazard a guess that Carolyn and Arthur would agree. I’ll admit … I love it a bit more now that I know the backstory, and that you didn’t make any huge sacrifices to get those things for us. But even if you had, it was wrong of me to get angry, and to speak to you in such a patronizing fashion.”

Douglas bowed his head in shame. “I just … I don’t understand, Martin. You had a paying job as a pilot before MJN. Why do you fly for Carolyn for free?”

“My last job paid, you’re right. But it wasn’t much. And my co-workers … to say they didn’t like me would be putting it nicely. I was miserable there, they made sure of it. I was so tired of being bossed around and treated like I was worthless. I started flying for Carolyn because … well, I liked the idea that I’d be in command. That I’d be the highest ranking member on the crew, and people would have to … at least I _thought_ I’d be respected. I had planned to look for other jobs, but … after a few months I realized I couldn’t leave.”

“Whyever not? Not that I’d want you to, but you--”

“Douglas, look around you.” Martin held out his arms, gesturing to the attic. “I’ve lived here almost a decade now. My last job paid, but it’s not like I had a nicer flat, or … or a nice car, or any of the things I sacrificed to work for MJN. But it was worth it, because I was happy. Because … because I had people in my life who I … cared about. It was like I had … friends.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he swallowed. “And so in the end, it _was_ a sort of payment, even though you couldn’t put a price tag on it. And most of the time, I booked enough jobs with the van to keep up with the rent, and if I had to live on pot noodles, I was willing to do it. Because I was doing something I loved, with people I loved.”

Douglas tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, and looked at the floor. “Those people … we love you too, Martin.” He forced himself to raise his eyes again. “It scares me to think that I caused irreparable damage to our relationship today, and to the relationships you have with Carolyn and Arthur. I wish I could take the horrible things I said back. I will never forgive myself for the embarrassment I caused you. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t expect you to--”

“I forgive you.”

Douglas’s mouth hung open in surprise. Silence hung in the room, heavy and somber, as their eyes met and held.

Throat suddenly tight with emotion, Douglas forced himself to reply. “Another gift I don’t deserve, but am eternally grateful for.” Surprised at the tears that suddenly started to prickle in his eyes, Douglas turned his head away, toward the computer on the desk behind him.

The title on the website Martin had been viewing when Douglas came in caught his eye.

**JANITOR**  
NHS DOMESTIC SERVICES  
£7 / hour

Realization dawned on him, but Douglas was nearly speechless. The humility and relief he’d been feeling moments before were quickly replaced with shock and disbelief. “What …”

Martin bristled slightly, but tried to laugh it off. “Well, I need to find something new to do with my time. You’re so adamant I eat. Food isn’t free, Douglas.”

Douglas spun back toward Martin. “But you’re far too qualified for a job like this!”

“Actually, I’m not. I don’t have enough experience doing much else besides flying. Cleaning isn’t hard, and I’d be helping people who are ill. At least it would have some meaning.”

“You should be looking for a paying job as a pilot!”

Martin stared at him incredulously, and Douglas understood. The damaging accusations he’d said in the heat of the moment hadn’t just made Martin quit MJN -- he was giving up on being a pilot altogether.

Douglas sat heavily. “We can find another solution. Please, Martin. Don’t stop flying. Don’t leave MJN. We need you.”

Martin closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’ve never been needed in my life.”

“Of course you’re needed!”

“Carolyn has Herc, he can pick up my flights--”

“That’s not -- _I_ need you!” Douglas fought to control his emotions. He didn’t realize the words he was about to say until they were coming out of his mouth. “Martin, besides my child, you are the most important person in my life.”

Martin’s head rose in surprise. Douglas’s heart crashed in his chest as their eyes met.

Martin’s expression was full of emotion yet somehow unreadable. His mouth fell open as if to speak, then he closed it, swallowed hard, and frowned.

“Please, come back to MJN.”

Martin’s expression turned somber again, and anxiety washed over Douglas.

“No, Douglas … I forgive you, but …”

“But what? You’re our Captain! The supreme commander of our vessel.”

Martin shook his head sadly. “How can I possibly come back now that I know you don’t have confidence in me? That my own First Officer doubts my ability to put the safety of others above all else?”

“But I didn’t mean it! I --”

“Yes, you did.” Martin smiled ruefully, tears welling in his eyes. “At least … some part of you did, deep down. You wouldn’t have said it if some piece of you didn’t believe it. And … if _you_ don’t trust me -- you who know me better than anyone, you who have flown _hundreds_ of _hours_ at my side -- why would I pretend anyone else does? It’s not just you. I know the guys at the airfield don’t take me seriously, either. It’s not surprising. No one ever has. You’ve always been the better pilot, you’ve always had better judgement. If you don’t think I’m capable … then I need to accept that I’m obviously not.”

“Martin! Please, I was upset and I was being stupid. I said things I didn’t mean -- I wasn’t thinking, I promise you I didn’t mean any of it!”

“No, Douglas. I’ve made up my mind.”

Douglas’s heart lurched in his chest and he stood. “Please, Martin, you’re making a huge mistake!”

“I appreciate you coming by,” Martin replied coolly, and Douglas could practically see Martin putting up walls and closing Douglas out. Martin stood and moved toward the stairs. He smiled placidly, but his eyes still shone. “And I appreciate and accept your apology.” He pursed his lips and frowned hard, trying to keep his composure. “I’ll try to keep in touch. Maybe we can meet for a cup of coffee some time.”

“Martin --”

“Douglas, please … just go.”

“But --”

_“_ Lock the door behind you on your way out. _”_

Martin walked back to his bed and lay down facing the low eaves.

Douglas stood for a moment, helpless and horrified and furious at himself, then finally left the attic and let himself out.

This was, without a doubt, the biggest mistake of Douglas Richardson’s life, and we wasn’t going to rest until he fixed it. He barely noticed the cold as he got into his car and drove away, lost in his thoughts.

_“They’re like my Fitton family.”_ Martin had assured his mum, even after his Fitton family had failed to notice how much he was struggling, even after his Fitton family had turned on him in his most selfless moment.

_“It was worth it, because I was happy … I had people in my life who I cared about … it was like I had … friends … I was doing something I loved, with people I loved.”_ Martin’s use of the past tense was unbearable. Hours ago he’d felt secure enough in those friends, in the job he loved. With his utter carelessness, Douglas had done more damage to Martin than he could have dreamed.  

_“You’ve always had better judgement. If you don’t think I’m capable … then I’m obviously not.”_

How could he make Martin see that he had it all wrong? If anyone had bad judgement, it was Douglas.  

Although he wished for a Christmas miracle, Douglas knew this was the kind of problem he’d have to fix himself.

Pulling into his driveway, he dug his mobile out of his pocket and hit one of the few numbers on his speed dial.

“Carolyn? It’s Douglas.”

 

* * *

 

“I really appreciate it, Karl. Yep. Bye.” Douglas hit the disconnect button on his mobile and put a check mark next to the last name on his list. He’d been expecting to cross off most, if not all off, but to his shock, everyone he called was happy to help.

Now, the next item on the list.

Douglas turned to his laptop and scowled. Verity had convinced him to sign up for Facebook ages ago, how should he be expected to remember the password he’d used to set it up? Apparently it hadn’t been _Talisker312_ , the password he used for every other digital account in his life. Douglas moved his cursor to the “Forgot your password?” link at the bottom of the page but inspiration struck before he could click.

Biting his lip, he typed TravellingLem0n into the password box, and Facebook finally loaded.

A red badge in the upper corner informed him he had 107 notifications since his last login, over six months back. Notifications of what, he had no clue, and didn’t have the time to find out now.

Instead, Douglas scrolled through his list of friends, smiling when he found the one he was looking for. If Douglas remembered correctly, the green dot next to their profile picture meant the person was online right now. Douglas couldn’t believe his luck. Now, if he could only figure out how to start a chat …


	4. Christmas Eve

Martin shivered as he turned over, pulling the duvet up around his ears. He’d spent the day in bed, deciding his Christmas gift to himself would be avoiding his problems a little longer. The mess of events that had transpired yesterday were still so raw. He’d barely held off his panic on the tarmac, and kept it at bay when Douglas had come by to apologize. Once he’d heard Douglas’s Lexus start up and drive away, leaving him truly alone in the house and feeling even more alone in the world, he’d been plunged into an anxiety attack like no other.

Curled up on the mattress, staring at the blinking fairy lights coloring the tiny GERTI ornament on his tree, the weight of it all crashed down on Martin. His heart raced, pounding so hard and fast it felt like it was trying to break free of his chest. His stomach twisted in knots, and he wrapped his arms around his middle uselessly. He felt suffocated, struggling to keep his breathing even as his mind spun in circles, thinking of everything (and everyone) he’d now be without, and what his life would now become. Hating himself for thinking he could make it as a pilot, for pushing on past so many hurdles that warned him he was never cut out for it to begin with.

Wishing he’d enjoyed his final flight more.

Eventually his exhausted body succumbed to sleep, and when he woke the next morning, still in his clothes, he pushed it all from his mind, trying to think of anything else to stop himself from having another panic attack.

Envisioning his mum happily touring Greece with her friend made him smile. She had done so little since Martin’s dad had died, he couldn’t begrudge her this holiday.

He thought of Simon and Caitlin celebrating with their spouses and his nieces and nephews, but couldn’t help but dwell on the fact that they hadn’t invited him in their mum’s absence. And what would they say when they found out he’d finally quit the piloting thing? They’d always teased him about it, never respected him for it … Martin’s stomach started to knot up again.

It was just easier to go back to sleep. So he did.

 

* * *

 

Douglas woke to big, fluffy snowflakes falling softly Christmas Eve morning. He allowed himself to imagine the day that he should be having for a few moments as he watched snow covering Fitton in sparkling white through his bedroom window. Verity was too old to race into his room before dawn now, but Douglas wondered if she still would have been the first one up, or if he would’ve had to wake her. Would she have wanted breakfast or to open gifts first?

He supposed he’d find out in a few weeks.

Today, there were more important tasks at hand. Starting with the roast.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure about this, Douglas? With mum, you know it’s more likely to sound like … well …”

“A funeral dirge?”

“Well, that wasn’t _quite_ what I was going to say but, yeah … pretty much exactly that.”

“Perhaps we’ll make her the conductor, then.”

“Ooooh, that’s brilliant! She loves telling people what to do and when to do it and how to do it and when to stop doing it!”

“Then it’s settled. Is everything all packed?”

“It’s all in the boot, ready to go!”

“Then so are we. Let’s get this show on the road.”

 

* * *

 

It was dark when Martin finally emerged from his blanket cocoon. Although he was usually able to ignore his growling stomach, the last he’d had to eat had been the snacks on the way to Aberdeen, and only a granola bar the day before that.

He gathered his Christmas dinner and headed down through the dark, empty house to the kitchen. One Pot Noodle, a tin of sausages, and an orange, all from the food bank, and the shortbread cookies from Arthur for pudding. Thinking of Arthur made Martin smile for a moment before the sadness settled in again.

He put the kettle on and ripped open the top of the noodle cup, and stood next to the counter to wait, mind blank and foggy.

Martin startled when the doorbell rang, taking a deep breath and running a hand over his face. No one knew he was here, and the students had all gone home. Maybe it was a delivery.

The sight that greeted him when he opened the door took his breath away.

A group of people stood in the front garden, and immediately began to sing when Martin appeared.

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas_   
_Let your heart be light  
From now on your troubles will be out of sight_

Looking closer, Martin couldn’t help but gasp when he realized he recognized some of them. No … _all_ of them.

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas_   
_Make the Yuletide gay  
From now on your troubles will be miles away_

Carolyn, conducting the group with gracefully waving hands, turned to smile at him over her shoulder. Grinning as he sang from a spot in the front was Arthur, and next to him, Herc. Around them stood Karl from ATC, George and Dave from engineering, Phil and Terry from the fire crew, and even Dirk the groundskeeper. And a familiar silky baritone cut through it all. _Douglas._

_Here we are as in olden days_   
_Happy golden days of yore_   
_Faithful friends who are dear to us  
Gather near to us once more_

Martin bit his lip as it started to tremble, tears filling his eyes. They all came here, to his grotty student house … on Christmas Eve … to sing … for _him?_

_Through the years we all will be together_   
_If the fates allow_   
_Hang a shining star upon the highest bough  
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now_

Martin stood speechless, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He shivered, but couldn’t tell if it was the cold or the emotions that suddenly poured through him.

Carolyn turned to face him as the song ended, twinkle in her eye even as her voice held its normal stiff aloofness. “You might invite us in, Captain, it’s a bit chilly out here.”

Martin sniffed and nodded eagerly, stepping aside and holding the door open as the crew piled into the house.

Dirk was first through. “Where’s the kitchen, Captain Crieff?” he said, holding up a large pot with oven mitts. Martin pointed down the hall in amazement, and the others followed, greeting him cheerfully as they shuffled in single-file, carrying platters and bowls, baskets and bottles.

“Skip!” Arthur beamed, setting down the box he was holding and wrapping Martin in a bear hug. Martin was surprised to find himself hugging back just as hard, and holding on a little longer than he knew he should as emotion swelled in his chest. Arthur finally pulled back, and although his smile was subdued, his eyes had never held such warmth as they locked onto Martin’s. “Happy Christmas, Skip,” he said quietly, and was that a tear in his eye too? Arthur turned toward the kitchen before Martin could see.

Herc shifted the bag he was carrying to one hand, and extended the other to Martin. “Good to see you, Captain,” Herc said, smiling warmly, and Martin was grateful for the strong handshake that proved he wasn’t dreaming. He blinked away tears and nodded, still unable to speak.

“Herc, they’ll be needing the plates and utensils and things in the kitchen,” Carolyn chided, pushing Herc down the hall with her empty hands. “Unless you want us to eat like barbarians, and for some of these men, I’m sure that wouldn’t be a far stretch,” she muttered. She turned to Martin, and after a moment, placed her hand on his arm stiffly.

“Carolyn?” he managed, voice breaking. A tear broke free, and Martin hastily wiped it away.

Carolyn pretended she hadn’t noticed, and looked around to see they were alone in the entryway. She enveloped him in a hug, which was brief, but warm. “Oh, Martin,” she murmured over his shoulder before she let go. “We might be dysfunctional, but MJN is a family, and we’re lucky to have you in it. There is no one I’d want at the helm of my operation more than you.”

His mouth dropped open in shock at her sentiment and she held up her hand.

“Breathe a word of that to Douglas or Arthur and I’ll put you up for adoption,” Carolyn cautioned, voice sharp again, but she couldn’t help the motherly smile that crept back onto her face.

“Now,” she said, straightening her clothes and patting at her hair self-consciously. “We have a lot to discuss, but first I need to make sure the clots in the kitchen haven’t ruined my casserole and puddings. Excuse me.”

Martin watched her march off, listening to the boisterous sounds and tantalized by the delicious smells wafting through the house. Moments ago the whole place had been quiet, cold, and empty, but for one sad ex-pilot and his paltry pot noodles. The sudden change seemed surreal.

He tried to count the people that had disappeared into the tiny kitchen … Carolyn, Arthur, Herc, Terry, Dave, Phil, George, Karl, Dirk, and …

Martin turned to see Douglas standing in the doorway, looking more bashful than Martin could have ever imagined.

“Merry Christmas, Sir.”

“Douglas,” Martin breathed, chest swelling with emotion. “You … how did … they all … it’s Christmas Eve!” he finally blurted, and Douglas smiled.

“We’re a rowdy band of misfits, I’ll grant you, and I know we’ve all done our fair share of taking the piss, but at the end of the day you’re one of our own. They came without hesitation when I told them you had no one to spend Christmas with.”  

“But how did you know? My Mother--”

“Is in Greece,” Douglas finished, and Martin’s jaw dropped in surprise. “I heard you on the phone yesterday,” Douglas admitted, rushing to add, “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I swear.”

“You arranged all this just so I wouldn’t spend Christmas alone?”

“And so you would see how important you are to us. To _all_ of us.” Douglas raised his eyebrows knowingly. “Even _Dirk_.”

 _“Even Dirk,”_ Martin said reverently, before a fit of giggles overtook him. After a moment, Douglas joined in, and Martin was soon wiping a different sort of tears from his eyes.

They collected themselves and stood grinning at each other fondly as the last of their laughter died away.

“Everything’s all set, chaps!” Arthur announced from the doorway of the kitchen. At some point in the last few minutes he’d donned a chef’s hat and apron and now held a large, dripping ladle. “Sure hope you’re hungry!”

“Don’t worry,” Douglas chuckled to Martin, “Arthur had nothing to do with the menu.”

“I still think surprising rice would have gone perfectly with the turkey!” Arthur replied dubiously, disappearing back into the kitchen.

The spread that greeted them made Martin’s jaw drop. Crammed onto the small worktop was an absolute feast. There was a beautiful roast, a full turkey and cranberry sauce, roast potatoes, parsnips, Brussels sprouts, sage stuffing … a basket overflowed with rolls and a huge bowl of fruit sat at the end of the line. The small kitchen table was almost overflowing with puddings. Martin’s stomach growled loudly, drawing a cheer from the group. Hands clapped Martin on the back and a plate was shoved into his hands.

The small parlor in the shared house became an impromptu dining room as kitchen chairs were brought in to seat the ten of them, and the tiny fireplace which Martin had never seen work soon housed a roaring fire. As ravenous as he was, Martin tore his eyes away from the full plate on his lap, and turned to the group.

He looked around at each man and the one woman packed into the tiny room, taking in their smiles and kind eyes. “I’m … I’m not very good with things like this … and I suppose you all know me, so you know that, but … I just don’t know how to thank you all for this, but … thank you.”

“No need to thank us, Captain!” Terry replied jovially. “This has been a long time coming.”

Phil nodded. “It’s the least we could do after all the nightmares you’ve saved us from.”

Martin didn’t understand. “What?”

“A few months back, you were on us about the fire extinguishers in the repair hanger being past their expiration. I know Terry gave you a hard time about it,” Phil said, elbowing Terry, who shoved him back in jest, “but you wouldn’t let up, so we tried one of them for shits and giggles. Didn’t work at all. Turns out the seal had degraded ‘round the neck, and it lost all the pressure. Got ‘em replaced and not even a week later a Bombardier Challenger caught fire when we were working on it. We were able to put it out and there was barely any damage. If you hadn’t been on our arses about those extinguishers, no doubt it would have been a disaster.”

“I’ve learned tons of things from Martin that I never knew otherwise,” Karl piped up. “He’s made me think smarter in the tower, and I told my cousin Joe who works ATC in Exeter some of the things Martin taught me … he stopped a crash that his colleague almost caused between two prop planes! So if you think about it, it’s like Martin saved their lives!”

Martin felt his cheeks grow hot at the praise.

Dave began recounting the time Martin’s eidetic memory of aircraft manuals had helped them repair a Dassault Falcon, and soon the others chimed in as they ate, adding their own tales of how Martin’s infatuation with rules and regulations and passion for aviation had saved the day time and time again. All the while, Douglas sat across the room, watching his Captain with eyes full of fondness that somehow made Martin blush even harder when he noticed.

When the puddings had been reduced to crumbs, the last of the wine (or sparkling apple juice) poured, and the final Christmas crackers pulled, the ground crew helped clean up and said their goodnights. Full days with their families awaited them tomorrow, and Terry, Phil, and Dave still had elf duty tonight, assembling the toys their children would wake to in the morning.

There were handshakes and even a few hugs as they departed, leaving the MJN crew alone. Martin watched the cars pull away as his colleagues made themselves busy in the kitchen, with Herc wrapping up leftovers, Arthur washing dishes, and Carolyn overseeing the operations.

“I hope you can see now how very much you’re needed, Martin,” Douglas said, quietly breaking the silence in the parlor.

“Indeed,” Martin replied softly, and turned to face his first officer. “And I can see how much I need all of you.”

Douglas’s breath caught in his throat. “Does that mean you’ll come back to MJN?”

“If Carolyn will have me back … yes.”

“Don’t worry,” Douglas grinned. “She never even knew.”

“I never knew what?” Carolyn’s voice made them both spin. Carolyn rolled her eyes. “Dear God, Douglas, you look like the cat that ate the canary. Since I’m feeling particularly … Christmas … spirited today, I won’t ask. But we have a few minor things to discuss, Martin.”

She motioned for them to sit.

“You know funds are tight,” she began, and Martin nodded. “I have been lucky to have a pilot who is so passionate about flying that he is willing to lug rich idiots all over the globe for MJN for the joy of it, but … I truly _would_ pay you if I could, Martin.

“And indeed,” she paused, looking meaningfully at Douglas, “we have reworked the finances and found a small stipend for you until I can afford more. It’s not much, but it should lessen the burden a little, and at least cover your rent every month. Additionally, Arthur or I will now pick you up and drop you off to cut down on the wear and tear and petrol for your van.”

“It’ll be great, Skip!” Arthur chirped, emerging from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his jeans. “We can play yellow car every day!”

Martin grinned but Carolyn continued as if Arthur hadn’t spoken. “I’ve also worked out a deal with our catering company to ensure full meals for the whole crew on any flights over six hours, and heavy snacks on the shorter routes. In exchange, we’re to pick up raw ingredients for them on stops we were making anyway.”

Arthur was almost bouncing with excitement at the mention. “And guess what the first one is, Douglas!”

Douglas shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest.”

“Lemons!” Arthur exclaimed. “It’ll be a whole _PLANE_ full of _TRAVELLING LEMONS!_ ”

“Indeed," Carolyn said with a smile, "Although with all of them in the hold, the game might not be as exciting as usual."

Arthur frowned. Carolyn patted his knee. "And I thought it high time that both of my pilots had appropriate outerwear for winter and our frostier destinations.” She handed Martin a page from a catalog showing a pilot in a long, black, heavy wool trench coat. “They’re being embroidered with your names and titles as we speak, and should be on your backs before the New Year.”

“And in the meantime, Skip, I have a really nice parka for you! It was always a bit small on me, but I think it’ll fit you brilliantly! It still has the tags on and everything!”

“That’s quite kind of you, Arthur. Thank you. And Carolyn …” he shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll do your best to keep costs down on your end, and we’ll speak of it no more.”

“Deal,” Martin grinned, feeling his heart swell in gratitude as he looked at the people surrounding him.

They really were a family. _His_ family.

“That’s all the leftovers packed away,” Herc announced joining them in the parlor. “I put half in the fridge and the other half in the freezer, with your name on it, Martin. Should get a good amount of extra dinners from it all.” He perched beside Carolyn on the arm of the sofa. “Ah, look at that,” Herc mused, gesturing to Martin’s foot. “We match!” He pulled up his own pant leg to reveal socks identical to those Martin was wearing. The merino _wool_ socks he had received from Carolyn and Arthur just yesterday.

Martin turned to Arthur, raising his eyebrows.

“She hasn’t told him yet,” Arthur whispered conspiratorially across the room to Martin, which was obviously not a whisper at all.

“Told me what?” Herc replied, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Arthur’s eyes went wide. Herc spun to look at Carolyn, who grinned her sharkiest grin.

 

* * *

 

And then there were two.

Martin could still feel the warmth and grip of Arthur's goodbye hug, and watched the taillights of Herc's car all the way down the street.

“I suppose I should be going too.” Douglas ran his hands down his thighs and pushed himself to stand, watching the embers from the dying fire glowing red. Beside him, Martin did the same, the silence between them heavy but comfortable, like a warm blanket. Truly, Douglas had no desire to leave.

“Douglas?” Martin turned to look at him, then dropped his eyes. “Thank you for this. For all of it. I truly can't remember a Christmas that has meant so much to me." He paused and took a deep breath. "And ... I just wanted to tell you … that thing you said … about me being important to you? Well … um … you too. I mean … I feel the same. About you.” He let out a frustrated breath and closed his eyes. “Douglas, you’re the most important person in my life.”

Douglas’s heart skipped a beat as Martin opened his eyes and smiled at him nervously, cheeks flushing pink.

“Another gift I feel I don’t deserve,” Douglas whispered, brow furrowing, resisting the urge to sweep Martin into his arms. It was then he remembered he had one more thing for Martin yet. Reaching in his back pocket, Douglas pulled out a slip of paper.

“What’s this?” Martin said as he opened it.

“It’s a job listing. The Oxford Aviation Academy is in need of an instructor for their SEP course. It runs once a month, and I’ve already discussed it with Carolyn. She’s willing to work around your schedule and when that can’t be done, Herc has offered to sit in for you.”

Martin’s eyes skimmed the page. “You really think I’m qualified to apply for this?”

“Martin, if anyone is, it’s the man who has more flight manuals memorized than an online database. In fact, I have a connection at the OAA, and I’ve arranged for the two of you to meet. He was most impressed with your CV--”

“My CV? How did you--”

“Carolyn had it on file. I merely updated it and forwarded it on. Between you and I, he asked me when you’d be able to start. The job is yours if you want it, and you’d be able to continue flying for MJN. Between the money Carolyn earmarked for you, and what you’d make running this course, you’ll be a lot more comfortable than you are now.”

“I might even be able to get a real flat,” Martin mumbled to himself. His eyes filled with tears again.

“Thank you, Douglas,” he whispered, looking up. He sniffed but it was too late, and a tear fell from the corner of his eye. Without thinking, Douglas cupped Martin’s cheek and gently brushed it away with his thumb.

They both froze as the intimacy of the gesture sunk in, and Douglas pulled his hand back quickly, opening his mouth to apologize.

Their eyes locked, and Douglas realized his heart was hammering in his chest. Martin raised his hand to cradle Douglas’s face the same way Douglas had just held his, and suddenly Martin’s lips were on his own, gentle and soft and chaste.

Martin stopped and drew a shaky breath, and Douglas felt Martin tense and start to pull away as he second-guessed himself. Douglas brought his hand up, threading his fingers through Martin’s hair, and captured his mouth. And as Martin kissed back, there were no questions or doubts left between them.

 

* * *

 

Although it hadn’t been in his original plans, Douglas Richardson got the Christmas morning of his dreams. Douglas was glad he’d left the decorations up, and surreptitiously plugged in all the fairy lights again when Martin wasn’t looking. He hadn’t planned on Martin spending the night, but once they’d started snogging it had been almost impossible to stop, and Douglas’s bed was much more comfortable and warm than Martin’s mattress under the eaves. They’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, still fully clothed, at second base.

Waking up next to his sleeping Captain filled Douglas with a warmth and fondness that he couldn’t describe.

When Martin did finally wake (Douglas’s hands unable to resist playing with his ginger curls), they had a lie in and another round of snogging before finally deciding to head downstairs and enjoy the breakfast that Douglas had originally planned for Verity. Christmas music filled the house and they took turns singing along, before one or the other would become too bashful and stop, beaming and self-conscious at the same time. 

There was a confidence in Martin this morning that Douglas had never seen before. The stories from last night had bolstered him, proving that not only was he taken seriously by the members of the ground crew and his co-workers at MJN, but he was appreciated and necessary. That he mattered and was trusted. That he was a phenomenal pilot, and a born captain. And that his First Officer was utterly besotted with him.

Douglas couldn’t have planned it better.

Martin was showering when Verity called from the Bahamas, and thanks to the wonders of Skype video calls, showed Douglas the beautiful ocean view she was enjoying while telling him about the adventures she’d already had with Emma and her family.

“I miss you, Daddy,” she said as the tropical wind blew her hair and palm trees swayed behind her. "I can't wait to see you soon! I got you an extra Christmas gift! Here's a hint: it involves coconuts!" The smile on her face lit up Douglas’s heart, and he realized although he was still a little sad, he was no longer angry she’d gone on the trip. As she detailed the sea turtles and dolphins she’d snorkled with the day before, he thought he might even call Emma’s parents to say thank you when they all returned.

“Happy Christmas, darling,” Douglas said as they signed off. Down the hall, he heard the shower stop.

With a smile and a contented sigh, Douglas grabbed a pot and two mugs for hot chocolate. He started a fire in the fireplace and picked up the stack of Christmas movies he’d collected.

If his luck kept on, at least one of them would have a romantic plot. Although based on the last few days that he’d had, Douglas couldn’t think of a happier ending to a Christmas story than the one he was living right now.


End file.
